Interfering
by The Angel of London
Summary: She's always there. - Entry for 'The Hunger Games Quote Challenge' by WitAngerAndBravery. #31


**The Hunger Games Quote Challenge: **#31 'Okay. Thanks for the tip, sweetheart.'

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"What are you doing?" An accusing voice startled him, and he hastened to hide his project.

"What do you mean? I'm not- I'm not doing anything," he retorted quickly –too quickly – as he turned to look at the speaker, "Pansy."

She approached him from her spot in the shadows, and ignored him as she inspected the cupboard. "Interesting, wouldn't you say?"

He glared at her tone, refusing to give into her taunts. He stayed mute.

"How _he_ chose _you_, of all people, to carry out this _improbable_ task." She smirked, "one would think he _wanted _you to fail."

His glare, if possibly, intensified at her words. "I know what you insinuate, _Parkinson_, but you're wrong. He _knows_ I can do this..."

He saw the glee in her eyes as his voice wavered with the last words – damn it. "You would think that, of course."

He stepped back as she got closer to him, but he felt the cabinet a centimetre from him, so he didn't go further back. Instead, he stared at the girl with distaste, to which she returned the look, but with _something _extra he couldn't identify.

"You're _his_ now. You're not the grand Draco Malfoy you thought you were." Her dark eyes pierced into his and he resisted the urge to fidget uncomfortably. "No longer are you above such _trivial_ and _menial _things such as music or painting. You chose to dirty your name the moment you went on your knees and sullied your arm for a _half-blood_." She spat the word, "now you're as much a peasant as those Weasleys."

That cause him to recoil, and he shuddered at being compared to that family. "How dare you. I rank music and such _hobbies _about as high as Gryffindors in terms of respectful, and rightly so." He ignored her expression, "Your name has never been _anything _other than a middle class name, maybe even lower. Your father garners respect from _no one_ and your mother is as important as her name. May I remind you of your father's loyalties as well?"

She stepped back another step, fury filling her features, as well as hurt – but he didn't notice that fact. He scowled at the lack of tears, but he turned back to the cabinet, leaving his back to her.

"You're disgusting, Draco Malfoy. And one day you'll _regret _following your father's loyalties." She almost growled, "_A Malfoy bows down to no one. _You're committing suicide by exposing yourself."

Dismissively, he waved away her words, "Okay. Thanks for the tip, _sweetheart_."

He only heard her indignant huff and footsteps fading before the door opened and shut, leaving him in silence to work on his project.

.~.

On the bathroom floor, the blood was spreading out slowly, and he felt nauseous as well as the pain from the curse. That idiot Potter had ran off to do something noble or brave – he scoffed inwardly – and probably to lie about his innocence in the situation.

A female figure knelt by him, a strange look crossing her face as she saw his wounds. As she caught his open eyes, her face adopted a smug expression. "How about some music? I'm sure you'd enjoy it." And, with a wave of her wand, _Weird Sisters_ filled the bathroom with their warbling voices, and he rolled his eyes in exasperation, remembering the song from the ball a few years previously.

She stood up suddenly, as she heard faint footsteps nearing the bathroom. "Oops, got to run. Can't have anyone see me here." She quickly ducked down and his left arm with a section of his shredded robe. "Can't have you getting caught prematurely, can I?" She winked, and disappeared, seconds before Professor Snape ran in with Potter behind him.

.~.

"How bad was it?" He heard as he crossed the common room that night.

He turned and saw Pansy Parkinson on the armchair with an essay on the desk, and a book on her lap. "How was what?" He avoided the question.

She closed the book and set it beside the essay, and looked at him sceptically with a raised eyebrow. "How bad were Potters detentions?"

He allowed himself a smirk, "terrible. You know Snape."

She nodded, as if satisfied, and proceeded to ignore him as she stared into the impossibly cold seeming fire. The green, almost dark turquoise, light it emitted gave the common room a _nice _feeling.

"How did you know?" He broke the silence, still standing behind the long sofa in front of the fireplace.

She ignored his question, "What's wrong with music?"

Dumbfounded, he allowed himself a confused glance at her, but she still didn't turn to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"You think music is for peasants, for _unimportant _people."

He agreed, not knowing where she was going with the statement.

"Why?"

"Why does it matter?"

She finally stood up and faced him, "why, the right kind of music can make you fall in love," she didn't change expression at that, "or raise an army, maybe even start a war. You never know. It could provoke rage, or happiness. It could make you forget, or bring up old memories." She walked up to him and stopped right in front of him, inches away, and whispered, "can a _peasant _do that?"

He thought for one minute, then replied with a disgusted look, "music is as useful as are rainbows. Not. At. All." And he turned on the spot, heading to the dorms.

.~.

"You shall be extra careful with him," he was warned, "there's no knowing what he'll do next. I wouldn't put it past him to curse you again."

He bowed his head in respect, "yes, Professor." He looked up to see the Potion's Master's robes billowing behind him as he left the room. "Whatever you say."

"At least you only bowed your head," Pansy snickered when he rolled his eyes at her by the doorway, "you have a habit of kneeling to one half blood, I thought you wouldn't have a problem to kneeling to another."

He sighed in annoyance, but refused to comment on her taunts.

"Must be hard, I guess, controlling that desire to kneel and proclaim loyalty to Potter," he said nonchalantly, provoking a reaction out of him.

He ran to her and pulled her inside, shutting the door after her, "you know what, Parkinson? You had better stop _this thing _that you're doing. I don't- Oh, fuck it!" He exclaimed, before pulling the girl toward him and capturing her mouth with his.

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A couple minor mistakes corrected. [Thanks to WitAngerandBravery.]

**And the part 'the right kind of music can make you fall in love, etc' part was inspired by a quote from Doctor Who which was kind of similar but I couldn't find the exact quote. **

**[I was listening to the Doctor Who soundtracks while I wrote this.]**

**Review, please, and favourite. **

_**Words: **__1090_

_**Posted: **__9__th__ February 2013_

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"_Parkinson," he groaned, "go away, now! I don't wish to listen to you any longer. Your voice is grating and your words are meaningless. You are wasting both our times; you are better off irritating someone other than myself. Go play with the Gryffindors." _**Insert where it says, 'thanks for the tip'. [It was what I had written originally, and I thought it fit.]**


End file.
